


Not Crazy / Just Unwell

by YouKnowTilly



Category: Monk (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Loss, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post Mr Monk and the End
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouKnowTilly/pseuds/YouKnowTilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Chief Disher, sir.” He got no reply, not that he truly had expected one. The sergeant put his hand calmly on his boss’s shoulder. The Chief glanced at the hand briefly and then ignored it. His expression was stoic and unmoving.</p>
<p>“Sir… the funeral’s starting.”</p>
<p>One day, Adrian Monk and Randy Disher would have something in common: their significant others had both been murdered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Crazy / Just Unwell

**Author's Note:**

> I just got thinking about what would happen if Randy, who had always kind of been amused and confused by Monk's behavior, knew what it was like to be him. This is after the finale, probably less than five years, but not more than that. Just to refresh, Randy moved in with Sharona and got a promoted position in another state.
> 
> The title of the story is taken from the song "Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty.

“Chief Disher, sir.” He got no reply, not that he truly had expected one. The lieutenant put his hand calmly on his boss’s shoulder.

 

The Chief glanced at the hand briefly and then ignored it. His expression was stoic and unmoving.

 

“Sir… the service is starting.”

 

Chief Disher stood up and walked in the opposite direction of the open doors. Sharona’s relatives had insisted on the church for the service, said it was more “peaceful.” He’d been against it at first since Sharona wasn’t—hadn’t been—the most religious person, and church usually put him to sleep.

 

He took the steps up to the second level and ended up sitting in the middle of a row of empty pews. He was the only one up here, and he could see everything from where he sat. He changed seats to be able to only see the casket and the row of flowers to either side. Disturbingly, there was a large picture of Sharona’s face at the front, opposite the casket. She was smiling in the picture; why would someone choose that picture? Sharona wasn’t _happy_ to be having a funeral—why would she? It didn’t make any sense.

 

“Where is he?”

 

Randy heard the very familiar voice of Leland Stottlemeyer, deep and inquisitive and annoyingly concerned. He could remember giving him the news, the only one he’d personally told. Everyone else had found out by word-of-mouth.

 

_Randy cleared his throat while the line rang three times. There was click and then Stottlemeyer’s voice filled his ear as it always did over the phone. His old boss had a way of making himself heard over everyone one else in the room._

_“Randy, how are ya, buddy? You’re getting lazy; don’t think I’ve heard from you for almost a month!” Stottlemeyer laughed loudly, and Randy had the odd thought that he was probably around people. His former boss always did like to include the rest of the room in his conversations. Randy had never put that together before now._

_He was right; Natalie’s voice came over the line, distant but excited, “Is that Randy? Ask him how the police chiefing is going! Has he won any medals yet?” There was laughter, mostly from Stottlemeyer._

_“Monk and Natalie are here and they told me to say hello,” Stottlemeyer said with humor in his voice._

_He couldn’t begin without sniffling to clear his nose and not sound like he was talking while plugging his nose. He almost couldn’t do it. He went so far as to bring his cell phone down and hold it in his hands on the top of his kitchen table, where he sat now. His former boss’s voice was so loud, though, that he could hear him anyway._

_“Randy? Randy, are you there?”_

_Getting momentary courage, he brought the phone quickly up to his ear and blurted out his sentences as quickly as he could._

_“Sharona was getting into her car at the hospital, after her night shift. She saw some woman getting-getting mugged.” He stumbled over his words a bit in his hurry to get them out. “She tried to help, and he shot her.” The phone slipped down the side of his face a little. He barely had the will to keep it up to hear the reaction._

_Stottlemeyer was silent for a moment, shock probably. He’d been there before. Randy heard him mutter, “My god.”_

_“Randy, we can be there by tomorrow. What’s the closest airport to you? Randy?”_

_His hands were shaking. He put the phone up to his ear again. “Don’t bother,” he whispered. “She didn’t make it.” He pressed the “end” button and smacked his phone onto the table. It took a few seconds, but it started ringing again. He read Stottlemeyer’s name on the phone and didn’t know what to do._

_He whispered the rest to the ringing phone, glad no one could hear him, since he was the only one who held the secret. “We were engaged. She wanted to marry me. Me, of all people.”_

_Getting up, he lifted the lid of the ottoman in the living room and dropped his phone in. He threw a small pillow on top and shut the lid again. The ringing was successfully muffled. He took himself up the stairs and stood in the hallway, not remembering how he’d ended up staring at a picture of the two of them with her son. It was good that Sharona had family that the kid could stay with. He could barely stand to look at him, as wrong as that was. It had been twenty-four hours since he’d gotten the news. Sharona hadn’t updated her emergency contact to him, so he’d had to hear the news from her ex-husband-turned-ex-again-boyfriend._

The music started from down on the first floor. It was mournful and irksome. His not-quite wedding band was in his pocket, and he fiddled with it, not looking down at the service. Normally, he’d be talking to Sharona; she loved to talk, and it was never awkward because she was loud-mouthed and approachable. His favorite thing about her, but a put-off for plenty of other people. He felt like she should be sitting next to him, keeping up a constant stream of commentary or gossip. He smiled a little at the idea and glanced at the emptiness of the seat next to himself.

 

“…this thoughtless, meaningless crime will never be forgotten. We gather today to…” The voice of the priest faded out as he stopped listening and stopped smiling. Shaking his head, he got up and left the choir loft down the stairs. He made it out the door and wasn’t paying much attention.

 

“Randy.”

 

The gentle, concerned tone of Adrian Monk made his head turn, as familiar as it was painful to hear. The man had his usual grey suit on, perfectly pressed and clean.

 

“Monk… why aren’t you inside?” He felt uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say. They were friends but they weren’t exactly close, and Monk was the one who had introduced Sharona to him.

 

Monk took a couple of slow steps forward, gesturing slightly to the door but keeping his eyes on him. “I could ask you the same question.”

 

Randy stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, well.” Looking away, he grimaced at the uncomfortable lack of words he had to say.

 

“Come inside,” Monk offered with a wave at the church.

 

Randy turned and kicked a rock a couple feet. “Yeah, no thanks.”

 

“Randy… I know how you feel. I know exactly what you’re like right now, inside.” Monk’s persuasive speech was only irritating, and Randy had been trying to avoid it. And Leland. And whoever else knew Sharona.

 

Randy turned and walked away.

 

“Don’t count on it.”


End file.
